Stuck Between A High Rock And A Hard Place
by Sephraem
Summary: Brynjolf wants to prove to his Guild Master he is worthy of her. Katryn wants to believe him, but is wary due to his rather licentious ways. Also, she has a few things from her past she'd like to keep hidden from the Guild. What happens when her past collides with her possible future? Will everything work out in the end for all those involved?
1. Chapter 1

_Another day, another round of pockets picked, safes cracked and homes looted. In a few hours I can add up the numbers, hunt down Bryn or Del and put part of the haul in the Vault, then maybe for once I can relax with a bottle of mead. Shadows know I deserve it with all the work I do. What I wouldn't give for a back rub though- hunching over this table is murder on my posture. Maybe I can haggle one out of Brynjolf, gods know he's been wanting a chance to ogle me up close for months now._

"Lass?"

A slight smirk graces the young woman's face as she sends up a mental thank you to the Guild's Patron for perfect timing. Icy orbs peer up from the ledger on the desk in the cistern, hidden behind shaggy straw colored locks. "Evenin' Bryn. How can I help?"

A bare hand holds out a letter to the man's Guild Master, a warm smile on her fellow Nord's face though she could detect a bit of weariness in his vibrant forest orbs. "Was closin' up the stall when a courier came into Riften lookin' for ya. Told him I'd pass the message on."

"Told him nicely, or was there a slight threat as well?" Katryn asks as she takes the offered parchment sealed with black wax, knowing full well the couriers never like giving mail to those whose names were not on the message.

"Ye wound me, Lass," her Second goes, putting his hand over his heart with an exaggerated pained expression on his face. "Though… I might have relieved him of a few odds and ends in the process," he adds, twirling a small ring around the fingers of his free hand. The silver of the piece of jewelry glints in the torchlight with a flash of red periodically catching her eye.

"I wound you, _hah_. I think the only blows I ever land on you are the ones to your ego. Nevertheless, don't change, Bryn. Nocturnal only knows how I would get through the day if you ever became boring." A soft chuckle escapes her mouth as the Guild Master breaks the seal and unfolds the message:

_**Hjerim.**_

_**20 Frostfall.**_

_**Don't be late.**_

_That's only three days from now… _A pensive look crosses her face as she sets the page to flame, then lets it burn to ash in a dish. "Del and Vex in?" A nod is her only response. "I'm being summoned away from the Guild. I'm not sure how long, probably a few days at most. I'll grab a job or two from them to take care of while I'm away from the Cistern. I _trust_ I can leave you in charge and not find our Hall destroyed nor her occupants arrested while I'm gone?"

"So long as you promise to be careful, Lass." Brynjolf reaches over the table and softly presses his fingers over her mouth when Kat goes to speak, silencing her. "I know, Katryn- yes, you're capable of takin' care of yourself. Yes, you defeated dragons and priests, bandits, Legionnaires and cultists and beat Daedric princes at their own game. Yes, you're the favored of Nocturnal with the uncanniest of luck. But you're also mortal, Dragonborn though you may be. We almost lost you once before, we don't want to have to deal with that again." _I don't want to have to deal with that again. It hurt so much, Mercer telling me you were dead. I should have fought him before you both left for Snow Veil Sanctum, should have demanded I go with you. Gods, I didn't know how the Guild...how __**I**__ was going to continue on without you._

The woman scowls against the hand covering her mouth- the conversation that she and her Second constantly had whenever she would disappear for a few days. She lightly bites at the warm digits- not hard to break skin, but deep enough to convince him to pull back slightly. "To the Void with this- I am _not_ having the same argument with you again, Brynjolf and stop trying to top from the bottom. If you want to be the bloody Guild Master, just say so and I will gladly hand it _all over_ and walk. In fact, I might just do that anyways- Nocturnal knows I miss the days when I didn't have to do all this godsforsaken paperwork and I could just steal. What's the point of having a Second if he won't bloody help with my work burden?"

"You don't mean that Lass. This place is as much a part of you as it is me. We live and breathe this place." he growls out, barely audible under the sounds of water and crackling flames. "Besides, I'm not your Housecarl. I'm not sworn to carry your burdens. You want someone to do that for you, have Lydia take care of it. The Lady knows she whines about that little detail often enough."

A thin eyebrow arches dangerously high as if to wordlessly say _Want to bet on that?_ When he doesn't take the bait to the offered challenge, a toothy grin breaks across her face. "I thought so. I will see you when I return Bryn. Don't run the Guild into the ground, please; you know we're still trying to undo Mercer's mess." She makes her way over to the other side of the desk, pausing next to her Second as if a thought occurred to her. Fingers, calloused from manipulating picks in locks but having the lightest of touches from lifting from pockets, reach up and brush down the coarse facial hairs on the man's cheek and over cracked lips. "Keep working at that, puppy. You never know, might get me to bare my neck in submission eventually..._especially_ if you stop fucking everything with tits and a vagina. Remember what I've told you many a time, I'm not going to let you under my bed furs for a one time meaningless fuck. You want that, go to any of the numerous women you've seduced with your honeyed words and fuck one of them."

"Trying to make an honest man out of me, Kat?"

The flaxen haired woman snorts in amusement. "Hardly. We're thieves- we don't _do_ honest. An honest _lover _on the other hand, perhaps. I want someone who is going to satisfy my needs only- and I mean _all my needs._ Personally, I don't think you could last keeping it in your pants long enough to convince me that your whore hunting days are over. Old habits die hard and all that."

Sharp ivories nip at the younger woman's rough digits as normally mirth filled emeralds darken at the prospect of proving her wrong. "Your challenge's accepted Lass. I look forward to not only proving you wrong, but also claiming my prize, over and over and tending to _both_ our needs. Starting with you bent over this table," Brynjolf adds, tapping the piece of furniture holding the Guild's ledger emphatically. "Then probably on top of Vekel's bar, the entrance in the graveyard... Do you think Arnskar would have a problem if we borrowed his workbench?"

"Promises, promises. I'll believe your sincerity when I see it," the Nord female goes with a chuckle. "Shadows hide you, Bryn."

The auburn haired man takes Katryn's hand in his and places the questionably acquired ring in her upturned palm, then closes her long fingers over the piece of jewelry. As he presses a soft kiss on the warm skin, Brynjolf murmurs to her, "They always do, Lass. Hopefully they keep giving us their favor."

* * *

A/N Another Story. I'M SORRY. This was something I was toying around with a few months back, and just decided to see if I could get something rolling with it.

I can't help it. I love writing Thieves Guild-centric stories. Someone did ask me awhile back for a Vilkas story, and I haven't forgotten about it...just...he's such an _asshole_, especially right after Blood's Honor. I get it, you're mourning. Doesn't give you the right to be a douche though. I have a few ideas for it though, just have to connect them properly. And do not worry, my other stories will continue (or be updated, in the case of Accepted). This just demanded to be noticed by Senpai.


	2. Chapter 2

Masser and Secunda were nowhere to be seen as darkness wrapped its embrace around the province of Skyrim. The majority of her inhabitants were asleep, the guards on patrol were griping about the upcoming winter- everything seemed right in the world… except for the hooded figure attempting to pick the lock of a home in Windhelm.

Eyes hidden in the overhang of the head gear narrow in frustration as cold fingers manipulate the tools silently, ears straining to hear over the wind howling throughout the city. _Shadows take you, blasted lock,_ the person thinks as they hear the click of the door signaling it finally bending to their will. _It shouldn't have taken me so long to pick it. Either they changed the damned thing or I should really stay out of Eastmarch in the latter part of the year_. They slip inside, hastily shutting the entrance so that the chill from the outdoors does not give away that someone broke in. A soft sigh escapes the thief's mouth, the warmth of the main room from the fireplace welcoming them with open arms.

"Five minutes to pick a lock. You're getting old. Or perhaps out of practice. Maybe, _gods forbid_, it's both." _Damn it straight to the Void. I was hoping to beat them here._

"Didn't have my gloves on and it's freezing out there in case you didn't notice. Blasted Nord, you could probably swim naked in Windhelm's harbor and not bat an eye at the chunks of ice afloat next to you," the intruder quips, their gaze darting around the room in search for the source of the voice. "And I'm not that much older than you wench. Stop making it sound like I belong up in High Hrothgar or something."

"Excuses, excuses. But now you know why I'll always wear my gloves, no matter how much of a hindrance they seem to be." The sound of a blade dragging along the stone wall echoes around them. "Ten years is a decent amount of time, though for people like us, it could be forever or a blink of an eye. You...could have knocked though. Or even ask me for a key next time. Or- here's a novel idea- write in the note to_ leave the bloody door unlocked_."

The other person snorts derisively. "How plebeian." Sea colored orbs shift to the left as they catch movement, watching as a second hooded person steps out of a shadow hidden corner, the blade of an ebony one hander over their shoulder. "New equipment I see. And which poor sap did you seduce to give you that beauty?"

A soft laughter is heard over the crackling fire. "Seduce? Not this time, I'm afraid. I made this one myself using the Skyforge in Whiterun. It _might_ not be as good as what Gray-Mane can create to sell or give to the Companions, but I can hold my own when it comes to my own weaponry. At least then I'll get what will work for _me_, not what someone _thinks_ I need."

"Perhaps I should have you forge a replacement for the one you stole from me."

"Excuse me? I don't think I heard you right. Did you say _stole_?" Now it's time for the other person to snigger in a mocking fashion. "More like won by right of conquest. I might not have killed you Mercer like you tried to do to me, but I _did_ introduce your ass to the ground that day in Irkngthand, more than once if I remember correctly. What a nice ass it was too- shame I couldn't get a good look at it soaking wet. Too busy trying to escape with my life, you know."

"Believe me, that incident in Snow Veil Sanctum hurt me much more than you realize. Had I realized the arrow was coated in a paralytic poison, perhaps things could have ended much differently. As to not ending my life, to this day I still wonder why you didn't- the Void knows I certainly deserved it after everything I did...especially to you." Two hands come up and lower the first person's hood, the dim torch lights glinting off long wavy strands of dark blonde hair. "My back reminds me of Irkngthand every time I'm somewhere cold- like just now while trying to pick your blasted lock. When did you change it, Kat?"

"While you're supposedly free from your yoke with Nocturnal, you ended up chaining me to it... for now, anyways. And make things easy for you? Have to keep you in practice and give you some challenge now that the Skeleton Key is no longer in your possession," the current Guild Master goes, tugging down her own hood in the process. Her amused gaze falls on the man across from her. "I'll keep changing the locks every time you pick through one, just to keep you in practice. Five minutes in the dead of night in Windhelm and it's not even winter her yet." Her nose scrunches as a thought pops into her head, and, catching the strange look the _supposed-to-be-dead_ Breton gives her, the woman continues, "Actually, I'll need to be changing them twice as often I think- there's another member of the guild who likes dropping into my homes and leaving tokens of affection just as much as you do. The next time I'm at a forge I'll have to remember to craft a bunch of them and have them on standby."

"Do I get three guesses?"

"You'll only need one."

A thick eyebrow arches upwards towards Mercer's hairline as he makes his way further into the room. "That's...not his style. He usually prefers his wide variety of honeyed words to get into a woman's bed."

"Your style changed too, you know that," Katryn pointed out to him as he stops in front of her, adding as an afterthought "Then again, so did mine. I suppose we've all learned to adapt to get what we want."

"The question, is if he's serious about this change or if he's just trying a different tactic for a quick victory... A lot changed since that day our paths first crossed in Whiterun the day after the Stormcloaks won that battle. Do you remember that?"

"I think of that day often, if you want me to frank- and that night as well. Funny isn't it how I caught you after every battle picking the lock of one thing or another. With people in the Guild telling me that you had never been caught...I almost wondered if you _wanted_ to be found, because if it was one time _maybe_ you were distracted. But after battles for Whiterun, Markarth _and _Solitude? Bit too convenient. If I owned homes in Falkreath and Morthal proper I'm sure you'd have found a way to cross paths with me there as well."

"What can I say? I found something I wanted and I wanted to make sure it survived the stupidity that was the Civil War," Mercer points out to Katryn, tapping her lightly on the nose. "And then Brynjolf forced you into my lap when he convinced you to join the Guild. Not a place I'd think to find you, to be honest... I figured you'd be having a seat in the new High King's court up in the palace."

"Who says I don't? Someone has to keep the idiots in line, especially the ones who would still prefer if Elisif was in charge. Ulfric only requires me to be there when things start getting out of hand, but I'm always kept abreast of what is going on, whether it's through him or someone else... Liken the relationship I have with the new High King to that of a Speaker and his Silencer, in a way." A soft snort escapes the blonde as she shakes her head. "It didn't take much persuading from Bryn, I'm afraid. I was bored and needed a distraction, so to speak. The Companions are a bit too...honorable for my liking. I can't stand mages, the arrogant fuckers. And while I do enjoy the company of some members of the Dark Brotherhood, I wasn't completely ready to sell my soul to Sithis just yet. Still not, to be honest, though I'll gladly do some work for them of the five fingered variety should they ask. I'm just too busy cleaning up the mess you left me, selfish bastard. Speaking of our cousins, Cicero wants to use your body so he can teach me how to better play "Hide The Knife"- I'd stay away from Dawnstar for awhile." The woman gently takes her former Guild Master's arm and brings him over towards the chairs by the fireplace. "I don't understand you and Delvin. Neither of you are Nords, yet you run around Skyrim not properly dressed for the weather. Thieves or not, the cold is not your friend, but you both complain about it all the same. Old age catching up to you both, no doubt."

"Keep calling me old, minx and you'll just see how untrue that statement really is," The man growls out to her as he slowly lowers himself into a seat. "Normally Calder would have been down to see what all the noise is. Did you happen to give him time off knowing I was planning on passing through?"

"That's right, you haven't been in contact with me for a few months, being out in Daggerfall robbing them blind," Katryn muses quietly, then shakes her head. "No. Calder died at the hands of a band of remnant Imperial soldiers while heading down to visit a friend in Markarth."

"Condolences, late as they are," Mercer goes, then asks "I take it those responsible were dealt with?" He watches as a sadistic smirk crosses the other thief's face, and the former Guild Master had his answer. "Calder wasn't a complete idiot, once he got over the shock of his Thane associating with thieves and assassins."

"You only think that because he liked you, though I'm not sure why. He probably couldn't see that massive ego of yours. Now that you're relatively comfortable, can I bring you anything to eat or drink?"

"You ask the same question every visit, and I give the same answer every time."

"As if I'd serve you Maven's swill here- this isn't Riften, Mercer, people don't kowtow to that woman here. How you could stomach her is beyond me." The still standing thief moves over to a cupboard and pulls two bottles off a shelf. When she returns, Kat hands one over to the sitting male. "Now _this,_ on the other hand, would have been a bit harder to come by because the gentleman who used to make this perished at Helgen when Alduin attacked. It took some time, but I was able to figure out how to replicate the recipe. Now the only place you can get it is through me...not that I tell people that."

When she goes to turn and sit in her own chair, the Breton reaches out and grabs onto her arm, tugging the black garbed female into his lap. As his free arm snakes around her torso, Mercer murmurs into Kat's ear "And where do you think you're going? I nearly froze myself to death getting in here, the least you could do wench is keep me warm in thanks."

"That's what you get for breaking into a home in one of the coldest Holds in Skyrim... but I suppose for your sacrifice, I can reward you for it," the blonde goes, leaning into his embrace. "Just remember though, you chose the location Mercer. Of all the homes I had, you chose to break into Hjerim. Vlindrel Hall would have been so much more to your preference, with your infatuation with Dwemer craftsmanship. Either there or possibly Breezehome in Whiterun, maybe Lakeview Manor in Falkreath though that might be a little too close to Riften for your comfort."

"For all I love about your home in Markarth, Argis and I will never get along. You know this Kat- I think it's because he wants you and you don't give him the time of day-"

"He would have me give up being Guild Master, settle down and pop out kids. Not the sort of life I want at this point in time, Mercer. I'm still plenty young, I don't need to settle down just yet."

"I figured I had less of a chance of bumping into any of the idiots from the Cistern up here- it was rather difficult getting them to take jobs here, Dawnstar or Winterhold."

"Delvin and Sapphire have to come to Windhelm in order to get to Solstheim and see Glover, but they certainly don't travel here at the end of Frostfall. However, the pair do have a standing invitation to spend the night if it is too late to sail- so long as I know about it in advance. The only ones other than myself that would survive _properly_ up here would be Thrynn, Vipir, Garthar, and, of course, Brynjolf. However, the first is currently doing a job in Solitude, the second in Dawnstar, the third is... I believe on his way back from Bruma, and the last better be back at the Guild."

Sandy brows furrow in thought at the thieves mentioned. "Garthar? Not a name I recognize."

She shifts her sitting position so that she's perpendicular to him and goes "You wouldn't. He crossed paths with Vex when she was being attacked by some wolves outside of Riften. To thank Garthar for his assistance, she tried to rob the guy but couldn't best him. Needless to say, she was impressed and invited him to join up. Her reasoning, I'm not quite sure, but I would not be surprised if he ends up being one of her conquests by the end of the year... I just hope he survives the encounter," Katryn takes a sip of her mead and sighs happily as the taste of juniper hits her tongue.

"Do I hear just the hint of concern for your fellow thief? Has Karliah finally forced you into fitting into her mold of an 'honorable thief' and hopelessly bound to the oaths you swore?" The older man's head shakes in disappointment. "And here I thought I taught you better than that."

"If that was the case, you never would have made it out of any of our past encounters after Irkngthand alive, Mercer." Before Katryn could say more, there's a loud bang on the door. "Who in Oblivion could be needing me at this hour of the night?" As she pries herself reluctantly from his hold, the woman adds as an afterthought "Don't turn around. No matter what you hear. Last thing I need is for Bryn or Del to be on the other side of that door and all of us spending the night in the Windhelm Bloodworks."

Emeralds watch as the Nord makes her way to the door, her sword still in hand but loosely held. When Kat looks back at him, a frown on her face, Mercer huffs childishly, then turns his back to her. _Whoever is interrupting us better have a good reason for doing so. There are still things she and I need to... discuss._

The rapping on the door starts to become insistent, and the young woman takes the last few steps to the door and throws it open with an angry _**"What."**_ Confused eyes blink once, then twice. Finally Kat goes "Galmar? What in the name of Oblivion has you knocking on my door this late?"

* * *

A/N I always have a hope that I'll find a mod that will have Mercer not dead and continuing to be a thorn in the TG side until he gets dragged to guard the Sepulcher (I can see Nocturnal still making that happen) or to the Void where he gets tormented by Lucien in splendid ways. Unfortunately, I haven't found it yet, so I have to make my dreams happen in my writing. Something's better than nothing, right?

So what could have General Stone-Fist pounding at the Thane of Eastmarch's door? I had tossed a few ideas around in my head, but a certain one kept shoving it's way to the forefront. So we'll give it a go.

Anyways, thank you for reading! Any questions or comments, feel free to leave them, I'll answer them as soon as possible!


	3. Chapter 3

_The rapping on the door starts to become insistent, and the young woman takes the last few steps to the door and throws it open with an angry **"What."** Confused eyes blink once, then twice. Finally Kat goes "Galmar? What in the name of Oblivion has you knocking on my door this late?"_

From across the room, Mercer could barely hear the sound of a growling voice over the sound of blustery streets of the Valunstrad District. "Apologies, Stormblade, but mind if I come in? We need to talk."

"As much as I'd love to say yes, General, I have company right now and quite busy. Can it not wait 'til morning?"

"And as much as I'd love to say yes, I'm afraid it can't. It regards your... family down in the Rift."

_Now that's interesting,_ the Breton thinks to himself as he listens to his successor let out a string of rather colorful swear words- clearly she was more than annoyed at something more than just the interruption.

Finally after the blonde calms down, Katryn huffs petulantly and steps back from the open door. "Get in before all the warmth escapes the house." Glancing over her should, she calls out "Eyes front, Mercer. We have a visitor- and shadows take you, you better behave!"

Now that had the former Guild Master rising from his seat. "I'll have you know I've been on my perfect behavior the entire time I've been here, wench, and will continue to be while your...company is here. Afterwards though I promise _nothing._"

"I see what you mean by busy, Stormblade," Stone-Fist goes as the Thane of Eastmarch shuts the door behind him, muttering something about gagging a certain Breton who wouldn't keep his mouth shut, "So I'll try not to take up too much of your time. You already know though that this isn't a social call though."

"I know you wouldn't be here if it wasn't important Galmar. Who's keeping an eye on Ulfric if you're not up at the palace?"

"Your friend from Riverwood- Ralof, was it?" At her nod, the Housecarl continues "He's a sharp Lad, if a bit eager to prove himself. While you're here, you should look in on him- I'm sure he and the others would love to see you. As to why I'm here... we caught someone sneaking out of Ysarald's room and making their way into yours."

"You didn't tell me you had a bedroom up in the Palace of the Kings, Kat. Wonder why _that_ is."

"Because Mercer you're a covetous bastard and Oblivion forbid I sleep near any male- married or not. The reason _why_ as to I have a bed on standby there stems from the Civil War and Ulfric wanting to keep me safe. It was no secret that somehow the Bear of Markarth had managed to convince the Last Dragonborn to fight for him and the Imperials would stop at nothing to have me dead because of that fact."

The look of disbelief on the Breton's face said everything, but that didn't stop him from pressing the issue. "The war's been over for at least two years, surely you don't need it now."

"Stormblade keeps the bedroom because on the nights she decides to drink with her commanding officers, she doesn't want the citizens of Windhelm seeing her stumble home drunk."

The lone woman's normally warm eyes narrow in anger at the officer. "I'm the _Thane of Eastmarch_, Galmar. It wouldn't do the High King any favors if I was seen like that, _especially_ if it was by Brunwulf Free-Winter- I swear he's still looking for anything to cause more problems for Ulfric. Now, tell me which member of my wayward family members broke the one blasted rule I set in stone."

"She hasn't given us anything- it was really only what she was wearing that had us tie it to your Guild. Originally I thought it was just someone from the Grey Quarter trying to cause problems, then I saw them." At both their questioning expressions, the older Nord elaborates with "Her eyes. They're not normal for a Dunmer."

Mercer, who was watching the current Guild Master thoughtfully, quickly looks at the heavily armored man and goes "Purple eyes?" At Galmar's nod, the Breton goes quietly "It can only be Karliah. Leave it to her to ruin a perfectly good night."

"Shadows take her- I told the lot of them to avoid using the Palace of the Kings for any job." Katryn pinches the bridge of her nose with an exasperated sigh. Before her predecessor could ask why, she adds "It's an off the record deal I have with the High King- we don't steal anything from the palace and I sometimes perform services of the five fingered nature for him, he leaves the Guild alone. Equate it to what Maven was having us do under you, but much more fun for me because it gets me out of the damned Cistern... Gods only know the sort of setback this gives us. What in Oblivion was she thinking?!"

"Clearly she wasn't."

"Not helping Mercer."

The Breton smirks at the clearly angry Nord and teases her mercilessly. "Oh, did you want my help? Beg for it like only you know how."

"Nocturnal only knows why I let you live, Frey. I'm beginning to wonder about that myself." Rolling amused cerulean orbs, the woman looks at the other man, who thankfully was trying _oh so hard_ not to laugh at the scene before him. "Hush you. I take it she's in the new cell?"

"Of course- some of us were wondering if we were ever going to be able to test it out on someone _not_ involved with the design." Galmar looks at the Dragonborn for a few moments then, with a sigh, says to her "I know I will get an earful from Ulfric when he finds out I did this, but give me your word you will come after breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Still served at seven?"

"Of course."

"Have Sifnar set..." Kat glances out of the corner of her eye to Mercer, who just gives a slight nod to the unasked question. "Have him set two places for the both of us. I'm sure my friend here would love to reconnect with a former colleague- strictly off the record, of course. Myself on the other hand, I could care if Talos himself came down to Skyrim and watched me tear Karliah asunder for blatantly disregarding the rule."

Galmar, satisfied with Stormblade's promise, starts to walk towards the door. "I'll stress to the soldiers watching her to not let their guard down- most of them now were ones who served under you during the Civil War. The rest I believe learned from the mistakes of the few who last displeased you." Before the blonde could utter a retort, the soldier just says "Don't worry, I'll show myself out and let you get back to your company. Remember- seven in the morning, no later," then is out into the cold night air of Eastmarch's capital.

"You realize I'm going to have to write Bryn and tell him to come up to Windhelm, correct?" Katryn didn't need to turn around to know Mercer was, no doubt, giving her a look that he had reserved for members of the Guild who wasted his time with stupidity. It was an expression, from time to time, that had graced her own. _Must be a Guild Master trait._

Instead of insulting her, however, the older thief says quietly as he moves up behind the still infuriated Nord "Surely that can wait until after you see her tomorrow, yes?"

"Are you actually telling me to shirk my duties, Mercer? Will wonders never cease?"

"And this is why you didn't kill me that day in Irkngthand- being around those idiots in the Cistern for too long without some stimulation makes you stupid, Kat. I didn't say to not write your gift giving Second at all, I just asked if you could hold it off until tomorrow."

"But why put off to tomorrow what you can do today?" the blonde teases, knowing full well what he was aiming for. "Besides if the roles were reversed-"

"If the roles were reversed," Mercer goes as he causes Katryn to backpedal from him until she's flush against the wall, "_I _wouldn't have even opened the door, regardless of who was on the other side. But you did, brought them inside and demanded I behave. Now they're gone and I'm no longer beholden to keep that promise."

"Oh really? Beg for it like only you know how, Frey."

Olive orbs darken dramatically at the challenge as the man leans forward, his head tilting up slightly to peer at her face- he might be shorter than the Nord standing before him, but by Oblivion if Mercer didn't make her feel a foot shorter when he became possessive. "I don't need to, not when I have you right where I want you, ripe for the taking."

And as a pair of rough lips claim hers, strong hands grasping at leather covered thighs, a brief thought of how the situation could be better drifts into the young woman's head. _It could never be,_ she tells herself, _no matter how much I want it to happen._

* * *

A/N: Karliah when will you learn you can't go against what the Guild Master orders...

Mercer stepping foot into the Palace of the Kings. I can only imagine how Ulfric will feel about this. As for Karliah, well, I have plans for this. I think. I'm not sure. Sometimes my brain and fingers don't tell me what they're planning until I see the results on the screen... sometimes it's even _better_ than what I scratch down in my handy dandy marble notebook.

...I also don't like Karliah, can't you tell?


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning found a pair of rather sore yet satisfied thieves walking towards the Palace of the Kings, though not before Katryn gave her predecessor a few words of wisdom.

"You're no longer officially a member of the Guild, so what you do is your own business. But I swear Mercer, while you are here as my guest... do _not_ steal from this place. It will be my neck on the line because I am vouching for you." The blonde tugs anxiously at a few strands of hair that came loose from her braid and continues. "We've somehow managed to keep your continued existence from the Guild for this long- I don't know about you, but I'm not keen about you messing with the good fortune we've had thus far by getting itchy fingers. If you think you will be too tempted by _anything_ in the Palace of the Kings, for Oblivion's sake go back to Hjerim. I don't want to explain to Ulfric as to why it suddenly seems I am no longer in control of my Guild."

Frey reaches out and takes his successor's hand, stopping next to the lit fire just a short distance from the building. "After all this time, you still don't trust me Kat? I don't know if I should be insulted or be proud that you took my lessons to heart."

"I finally learned that one when you stabbed me in Snow Veil Sanctum- when I realized the only person a thief could trust was themselves and no one else. I do wish I learned it sooner- and not in that manner, by the way- but some lessons need to be imparted with harsher means."

"If there was one thing I wanted you to understand it was that you can't always be nice to the idiots. Sometimes they need that rude awakening to get back in line."

"Well Karliah will be getting one of those soon enough. I'm the Guild Master now and my word is law. If the Dark Elf thinks I'll turn a blind eye to what she does just because of her being a thief and Nightingale longer than I, she has another thing coming."

Thin brows furrowing slightly is the only sign Mercer gets that Katryn is mentally weighing potential options of future ideas. "I can almost hear your thoughts whizzing about in your head, Kat. What _exactly_ are you planning in that devious mind of yours?"

"Are you sure you're talking about the right person, Mercer? Me having a devious mind?" The blonde looks at the man beside her as if he said something rather foolish, only to break out in a fit of quiet giggles- not that she would ever admit to such a thing, of course. "Unrepentantly guilty, I'm afraid. As for the idea, I need to think on it a bit more. If my luck is favorable, I can have it figured out after I speak to Karliah and get the answers to my questions."

Before the younger thief could add more, her stomach lets out a loud grumble of disapproval at being denied the promised sustenance awaiting it on the tables of the palace's hall. Letting out a chuckle that would have had the residents of the Cistern stopping in confusion, the Breton wraps an arm around his... _what was she_, he muses to himself. _A former colleague, yes, but friend? _Truth be told, in the beginning, all he was hoping to do the day the Stormcloaks attacked Whiterun was sneak in, steal the city blind, and sneak out during the post-battle mayhem. Mercer certainly was not expecting to walk into the home next to the blacksmith's and find a wild haired woman clad in blood drenched armor standing in the middle of the main floor without a care in the world. He was even more surprised when said female had him pinned to the door, a still damp dagger pressed up under his chin, before his own weapon could be unsheathed. That day was the first time- at least since Karliah tried to kill him for his murdering of Gallus- that Mercer actually feared for his life:

* * *

_Glacial orbs, he still vividly remembers to this day, peered at him from underneath ungroomed straw bangs. "You're either a very courageous thief or a rather dumb one, breaking into a home so soon after battle. Tensions are still high and someone might stab first and ask questions later. So..." the crimson covered soldier goes, dragging the sharp edge along his scruff carefully, "What is your name, thief?"_

"_**Excuse me?" Confusion. Here he was, at the mercy of someone who clearly could end his life as casually as one talks about the weather, and she's asking him about his name?**_

"_Your name."_

"_**Mercer Frey," he had spat out, trying to seem unconcerned about the position he was in. His own emerald eyes moved from where they were locked with hers downwards, over a nose and cheeks that were dusted with freckles, pausing momentarily at her smirking mouth. The thief's gaze continued to travel south, slowly dragging over a slender neck, and refusing to move past the red speckled chest restrained by the blood soaked leather.**_

_A soft chuckle hit his ears. "Well then, Mercer Frey, are you enjoying the view?"_

"_**And if I am?"**_

"_Well, you did break into my home." A thoughtful expression crosses the woman's face as she continued with "I suppose we could come to some sort of arrangement where I do not inform the guard or the Stormcloak soldiers of your little... transgression..."_

* * *

And what an arrangement it was. Oddly enough, in the days that followed the events of Whiterun, the Breton thief often found his thoughts drifting back to the woman- her name, Mercer later found out before he left, was Katryn Hjlemstad- who spared his life. It wasn't just him dwelling on the memories of what he did to her and vice versa that worried the thief, it was the fact that somehow, with that one encounter, she had managed to somehow wriggle her way into the back of his mind. The mere thought of that happening boggled the Guild Master's mind, and it wasn't all too welcome in the beginning...

"...Mercer? You're woolgathering, Mercer. Come back to Nirn now."

Planting a kiss on Kat's forehead, the man starts to lead the Nord to the door again. "That I was. In regards to your idea, hopefully it does not lead to you doing anything foolishly stupid. If it does, I will _not_ be amused. Do I make myself clear, wench?"

Though the young woman hoped that her mentor was jesting with his last comment, in both her mind and her heart Katryn knew Mercer was deadly serious. The man didn't suffer idiots lightly, and he always expected much more from her- not that she complained, of course. Truth be told, sometimes the taller woman enjoyed his overprotective tendencies... but today was not that day. She had a plan- what thief didn't have at least two ways to get what they wanted?- but the man currently guiding them to the entrance of of the Palace would not be happy once he learned of it.

_**Nor will Brynjolf, you know this right? Not to mention when he learns Mercer never died at Irkngthand. How do you think he'll handle your betrayal, hmm?**_

_For all his talk about the Guild being family, when push comes to shove, Bryn knows will always take care of themselves first and foremost. My only concern is he and Frey coming to blows if and when they finally cross paths- covetous bastards, the both of them._

_**And when- not if- they demand you make a choice?**_

Could she? Could she truly make that decision? Of course not- that was a rather stupid question. She was exactly like the two men currently on her mind- the only difference was that the female thief wanted the pair and no one would convince her otherwise. _I'd rather not have either of them than have to choose... I hope it doesn't come down to that._

"Comes down to what?"

Katryn starts suddenly as Mercer's voice interrupts her train of thought. "Excuse me?"

"You said 'I hope it doesn't come down to that.' I was wanting clarification," the Breton goes, his right hand on the Palace's door. "Is everything alright Kat?"

_Did I say that out loud? Damn it straight to Oblivion._ "Oh. It's nothing. Debating with myself. It's not important." Before the man next to her could call her bluff, Katryn's stomach rumbles in protest again, this time followed by Mercer's. "Come on, the sooner we eat, the sooner I can deal with Karliah."

Green orbs watch as the blonde darts into the Palace, though whether it was truly to eat or to avoid answering the question, the former Guild Master wasn't sure. _Shadows take you, wench, I loathe when you keep secrets from me. It always ends up meaning that you are up to no good, and that tends to you getting hurt. Is this how you felt when I did not want you coming to Snow Veil Sanctum with me?_ Huffing in annoyance, Mercer heads into the Stormcloak's stronghold eager to get this mess permanently behind them. _I'm getting too old for for this... but the things I'll do for Kat. The way this woman's changed me, I can't leave Skyrim, not now, not anymore. I just can't go anywhere she's not, and I'll be damned if Karliah tries to ruin this again. _

As the door shuts behind the rather annoyed thief, somewhere there was a Daedra watching from their realm in Oblivion, smirking as the pieces slowly started to fall into place.

* * *

A/N: And here we go, another update, another day in the life of Mercer, Bryn and Kat. Are we surprised there's a meddling Daedra watching from behind the scenes? Of course not- it's what they do.

Now, will Mercer keep to his promise and not lift anything from the Palace of the Kings? How will Ulfric handle not only having the former Guild Master wandering around, but also seeing how close the Breton is to his Stormblade? And where will Brynjolf fit into all this? I can honestly say... I don't know. The fingers and the brain haven't told me yet. But we'll find out!

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Having Mercer Frey and Ulfric Stormcloak sitting at the same table, Kat learns rather quickly, is a very bad idea. _And here I thought the only problem was going to be keeping a thief from stealing. When is it ever that easy?_

"So you say that you first met my Stormblade after the battle of Whiterun. How exactly did that happen? Most people would tend to avoid a burning city."

A digging of nails into his left thigh has the former Guild Master glancing at the woman beside him, translating the slight shaking of her head as a sign to not be his usual caustic self. _Shame. _"Just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Personally, I think it was fortune smiling on me that day."

"Oh, and why is that? Plunder a wartorn Whiterun down to its' last septim?"

"I'm not that selfish or heartless, regardless of what the members of my former Guild might say," the Breton drawls out, picking up his tankard and taking a long sip before adding on "It was my original intent to steal from only a home or two-" a lie, and both thieves knew it "yet, I was not expecting to have something stolen from me in the process."

Katryn snorts softly behind her own tankard of mead. "That explains why you were poking around Vlindrel Hall, and I thought it was because of your unholy adoration of all things Dwemer- still wondering if you'll ever break into my little niche in the Cistern and try stealing back your enchanted sword, by the way... Would give the lot of them a collective heart attack if someone saw you." She gives the man a fond smile, then says to the High King "Mercer is possibly one of the best thieves to grace Skyrim's shores-"

"One of the best? I resent that. I have never been caught."

"Then what was Whiterun?"

"Nothing but an abnormality," Mercer snarks out. "I certainly was not expecting to find a blood covered _anyone_ in the home, let alone the Thane of Whiterun who betrayed her Jarl for the Bear of Markarth. I suppose that's one of the things that had me wondering about you."

"And Markarth? Wanting to get your hand some Dwemer artifact no doubt and used the chaos that was happening with the change of Jarl to cover your tracks."

"While that was on my mind, but my priority was seeing where you were. It took me a few tries, but I found you. I believe I was digging around in one of your wardrobes when you sauntered in, once again covered in blood- I think there was actually some clumps of a person's body in your hair that time. Though... I would have preferred Argis not walking in on us- the man hasn't liked me since."

"You were poking through some of the dresses I had in there, remember Mercer? You seemed quite surprised that someone who was rather content killing on the battlefield had an appreciation for the finer things in life. Still doesn't change the fact that I caught you after breaking into Vlindrel Hall. So, what's your excuse for Solitude then?"

"I wanted to make sure you survived the stupidity that was the final battle of the war. Your rather extensive collection of weapons in the basement just caught my attentions for a while. Besides, I didn't hear you complain while we properly broke in your workbench."

The lone female in the conversation rolls her eyes, glancing up towards the ceiling as if looking for guidance. "As I was saying, my predecessor is possibly one of the best thieves to grace Skyrim's shores. He's only been caught by one person, which in our line of work, is quite impressive."

"It wasn't always your profession, Stormblade, remember that." Ulfric growls at her from the head of the table as he sets his knife down. "Nor does it still have to be. The fact that you would debase yourself for a thief concerns me greatly-"

"You never complain about my _profession_ when you benefit from it, Ulfric. You only whine like a petulant child when I go against what you want. I might have fought for you, bled for you, nearly died for you, but I will not change for you. Nor will I be a bed warmer for you at your beck and call when you're in rutting season."

"Would have being my Consort been that awful, Katryn? You would have had everything you wanted-"

The Nord female cuts the ruler off with a swift movement of her hand. "Everything I wanted at the cost of my freedom! I am not one for court life, my King. I serve you better out there being your eyes and ears, your sword and shield- not here as a dumb piece of eye candy for you to parade so others can see your ultimate conquest, or that whole separate bedroom idea. If I _ever_ settle down and marry someone, believe me, I'll be expecting him in _our_ bed every night and not only coming to visit when he wants to get me with child."

"That wasn't-"

"Oh really. So it wasn't you crowing to the other officers in a rather drunken state that you, the Bear of Markarth, were going to get the Last Dragonborn to submit to your will, tame her wild ways and have her bear your children? Then proceeded to give out a rather _lengthy_ list of possible mistresses who could tend to your needs once you learned I was pregnant. After overhearing all of that from the war room, well, it's no wonder why I made a rather expedient exit from Windhelm."

"He said what? You never told me about this, Kat. We _will be_ having words about this my dear when this is all over..." Mercer lets out a snort. "Can't tame a dragon, believe me I tried. Was the greatest mistake I ever made, and I've made more than a few."

"Not only did you try doing that, Frey, you tried to permanently ground me- it might have happened if I had just settled for Karliah's shit job in healing me. I knew something wasn't entirely right with it, which is why I paid Wuunferth a visit to fix her mess. I'm still not sure to this day if her ineptitude was intentional or not."

A hint of color graces the High King's face- he had wondered often, of course, the reasons as to why his Stormblade had disappeared after the first night of celebrations. For all the times they had interacted afterwards, whether in regards to the Thalmor or needing to acquire something in a quiet manner, neither had broached the topic. Now, it seemed, he had his answer. "You... heard all that? Why did you not say anything? You know I wouldn't have..."

"I think, had the door been open, they would have heard you down in the Rift, Ulfric," Galmar, who had been quiet up until this point, goes in order to give the woman a slight reprieve. "And you were so drunk, I was quite surprised you were able to pull yourself from bed the next morning."

The King's Housecarl holds up a hand, silencing his long time friend when he went to interrupt. "Now, I'd like to think you were talking out of your ass that night, but remember this, there's always some truth in words spoken while drunk."

"Well, I was hoping to enjoy a nice breakfast before having to deal with the issue currently sitting in a cell, but it seems I have suddenly lost my appetite. So if you'll excuse me... And remember what I told you earlier, Mercer. I will be... _displeased_, should I learn you couldn't control yourself for a few hours." The lone woman stands up from the table but, instead of walking towards the door for the barracks, goes to stand behind Jorleif. She hurriedly whispers something in his ear, to which the Steward looked like he was going to argue with her, but whatever Katryn says causes the shorter man to acquiesce to her request. A slight smile showing her exhaustion flashes across the Nord's face, then she heads downstairs to start the day's events.

"Jorleif."

"My Lord."

"What did Stormblade wish from you?"

"Sir," the Steward goes, his voice wavering just a bit. "You know the Thane. Whenever she puts her mind to something..."

The lone thief at the table cuts in "She'll not change it, regardless of how much one argues to the contrary." Mercer sighs, taking a bite of the sweetroll in front of him.

"Which," Ulfric concludes as he glances at the door the blonde passed through, "means she's up to something we'd not approve of."

"Met that side of her, have you?"

"More times than I'd like to imagine." A smirk breaks out on the High King's face as he remembers some of those events fondly. "Since we will be here awhile, let me start with the story of when Katryn Hjlemstad first walked through the palace's doors..."

* * *

_Meanwhile, back in Riften at the same time Kat and Mercer walk into the Palace..._

"Would you sit down you bloody fig! Wearing a hole in the rug is not going to make the answer come to you any sooner!"

"Not helpin' him, Vex."

The infiltrator huffs at the Breton in annoyance. "I could care, Del. For the past two days all Brynjolf has done is pace and stare at the ways a person can get into the Flagon. Maybe if he was a bit more _forthcoming_ about how he felt towards the Guild Master and not hiding all the time behind his 'important things to do', he'd would be with her- or at least know where she would be heading." She takes an long drink of her mead, then adds "How do you know this feeling you're havin' has anything with Katryn anyways?"

"If you hadn't given the Lass jobs all over Skyrim it might have been easier!" The redhead pinches the bridge of his nose as the signs of a headache announce their untimely arrival. "And in answer to your question, I had the same feeling when she went..."

Mallory puts a hand on the Nord's shoulder. "When she went with Mercer to hunt down Karliah." When the Guild's Second could only nod, Delvin goes "Someone is tryin' to warn ya, Bryn, and it's involvin' the Boss. You gotta find out what you're bein' told."

"That's pretty vague there, Del. Wouldn't know where ta start, and for some reason, I feel something is comin' sooner than I'd like."

"You don't have to go far, Brynjolf. If I remember correctly, after the Guild Master came back from dealing with Mercer, she started every new job by spending some time in front of that statue in the Cistern. Some days she'd only be there a few moments, others as long as an hour- I don't know what exactly happens to her during that time, but it hasn't let her down yet."

The auburn haired thief stares at the other man as if he just sprouted a second head. "I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious-"

"And ol' Del isn't telling you to believe in anything. But, we're thieves, and sometimes we need all the luck we can get. If Katryn believes in such a thing, surely it's something you could attempt once- especially if your instinct is right and the Guild Master is in trouble. How would you feel if you learned something actually happened to her and you didn't try to help, or stop it for that matter?"

That question was enough to get the Nord to stop pacing, his emerald orbs glancing in the direction of the rest of the Flagon. Instead of what he wanted to say- that he would take care of it later- Brynjolf goes "Fine," and starts walking to the room in question before the ginger could change his mind.

The confused thief was ever so grateful that the Cistern was empty as he made his way before the stone likeness of the Guild's Daedric Patron. Had anyone asked him two years ago if what carved into the rock was true, Bryn would have scoffed at the question, having completely believed that the gods and Daedra were nothing but figments of mans' imagination, that he was in control of his own luck. Now, the ginger could say without a doubt that yes, it was very close- at least the rock didn't make him feel insignificant. _Not like the real thing in that regard_, the man remembering all too well how small the Demonic God made him feel.

As he puts a bare hand on top of the smooth base of the shrine, the thief almost pulls back as he feels the magic coursing through the stone, his eyes scrunching shut at the power pulsing under his fingers. _Alright. Not just a statue then. So what are you? Do any of the others feel anything if they touch it?_

"**Not everyone feels the same thing. Everyone feels something, some more than others, but it is only my Nightingales who are able to fully experience what the shrine has to offer. And so the last of my living Nightingales comes to the Ebonmere...though, I will admit, I was expecting you sooner..."**

Lids flicker open revealing confused jade orbs, landing at the form of Nocturnal hovering above the portal that, according to the Lass, was found in the Inner Sanctum of the Twilight Sepulcher. _How did I... blasted Daedra..._ "Well, since there's only three of us, it had to eventually happen. I just wish the situation that demanded it wasn't necessary."

"**Three?"** An amused smile crosses the Daedra's face as she looks down at the mortal thief. **"Try four."**

"But the Lass told me she met Gallus's shade when she went to return the key. That means... How?"

"**Tell me. You were a member of the Guild prior to the death of Gallus Desidenius."**

"What does that have to do with Mercer Frey still being _not dead_?" At the unwavering stare of the demon before him, Brynjolf sighs quietly and nods. "Aye. Brought me into the Guild when I was a young lad."

"**What was your current Guild Master's predecessor like?"**

"Not like he was after Gallus was killed... He used to not isolate himself, actually interacted with the members of the Guild. When he changed, we thought it had to do with Karliah, but that wasn't the case."

"**You'd be surprised how right you actually were at that point."** The Prince makes her way down from the opening of the Ebonmere to stand before the auburn haired Nord. **"It wasn't public knowledge, but before the Dunmer was involved with Desidenius, she was originally in a relationship with one Mercer Frey. However, Karliah craved power and decided she would have more if she was with the Imperial instead. Mercer saw that as not only a betrayal by the woman he loved, but also by the man who was his friend."**

"That doesn't justify murder," Brynjolf protests vehemently.

"**Are you telling me that if someone stole that which you loved and wanted most, you wouldn't resort to far more questionable actions than thievery? Like if one Delvin Mallory decided that he wanted your Guild Master for himself?"**

The man goes to open his mouth, then stops, his mind whirling in confusion. _When put that way..._ "Honestly... I don't know. I hope I don't end up in that situation but..."

"**Exactly. You don't know what that betrayal feels like. And so, with Karliah and Gallus so wrapped up in each other, Mercer was able to steal the Key. The Imperial had theories about it, and died because of them. The new Guild Master, from my point of view, did not break the one rule I set before my Nightingales- to keep my Key safe. Was it where it _should_ have been? No, but it also was not in the hands of someone that followed... Sheogorath, for example. The chaos that would have been unleashed would have been something."**

"Your perspective _clearly_ differs from mine. What exactly does this history lesson have to do with my thinking something happened to Kat? Is Mercer going to try and harm her, kill her again?"

The Daedra sighs as she shakes her head. **"The danger to my Nightingale has not been- and never will be- Mercer Frey. If you remember, I never asked for him to die, I only asked that my Key be returned to it's proper resting place. The demand for the Breton to die was wanted originally by Karliah, only echoed by others in your Guild once they saw what he had done to the contents in the vault."**

"Why not?"

"**That is not my story to tell. You can ask your old friend that question when you get up to Windhelm. It will be quite the family reunion: You, Mercer, Katryn and Karliah."**

A calloused hand rubs at coarse auburn facial hair. "Can I get anymore information than that?"

"**Karliah broke the only regulation your current Guild Master put forth at the start of her tenure- the only place a member of the Guild could not steal from was the High King's palace. The Stormcloak's Housecarl sought Katryn out when the Dark Elf was arrested for sneaking through the officers' rooms on the second floor. My Nightingale was going to write to summon you up to Eastmarch after she spoke with Karliah, but that letter will not get sent."**

"Why not?"

"**The Dark Elf is like any other thief- there is something that is always wanted above all others. For her it was power, though instead of wanting it herself, she wanted to wield it indirectly through another. She cannot do this will the current Guild Master." **Cold eyes peer down at the Nord as the Prince goes **"Should anything happen to my Nightingale, who is the one who steps up to fill her position?"**

"I be asked ta, but I'd turn it down just the same." Brynjolf's brows furrow slightly as he remembers a conversation he had with Karliah, before he told Katryn that she'd become the next Guild Master and not him. The other Nightingale was none to happy that he decided that it would be the newest member to the Guild that would take over, and tried numerous ways to get him to change his mind. While it had stopped for the most part, Karliah would drop a hint here and there, saying that while the current Guild Master might have been the Dragonborn, she wasn't immortal and was sure to have many enemies if her claim of having the High King's esteem was true. Recently though the Nord remembered her saying something about the Guild Master and her rule about not breaking into the Palace of the Kings, that it was a rule quite similar to one Mercer had in regards to the Black-Briars and it was rather strange that Katryn would forbid any thief from doing what they do best, regardless of the reasoning behind it. "Are you telling me Karliah... broke into the Stormcloak's palace and got caught? And the Lass was summoned to deal with it? And somehow Mercer- who we all thought was dead but isn't- is somehow involved?" At the Daedra's nod, he goes "What do you get out of this? It's a bit too convenient..."

Nocturnal just gives the Nord a smirk, one that he had seen gracing the face of both Mercer and Katryn when things were going to get interesting. **"Now if you would like, I can get you from here to the vicinity of Windhelm. There will be a price, though it will be one even someone like you would be willing to pay."**

"There always is with Daedra. Oblivion forbid you actually do something for nothing."

"**Much like a thief."**

Brynjolf tilts his head, showing that the point was hers. "What exactly do you want in return for the lift?" When the demon gives her answer, the thief could not tell if she was being serious or not. "I don' think that'll be possible."

"**Then you can start walking and hope you get there in time. It's a long walk from here in Falkreath to Eastmarch, is it not? Even longer if one runs into all sorts of things that call the wilds home- every incident setting you further and further back from reaching your goal. I suppose you'll make time for this walk?"**

_And now I understand why the Lass would tell me that one cannot truly outwit a Daedra, the true masters of manipulation. I wonder how much else she said that I chose to not hear. But for her... _"Very well."

"**Excellent. I will be dropping you in the area of Eastmarch that is south of Kynesgrove- close enough that you're not traveling more than a few hours, but far enough that people do not ask questions regarding your suddenly appearing out of thin air. I would suggest move as quickly as possible once you arrive. Do you need anything before you leave?"**

"Nothing that the fingers can't provide once I get to Windhelm. When I learn exactly what is going on, I can send Del and Vex a letter with information and instructions."

"**Wonderful,"** the Daedra goes with a nod. Lifting her right hand up, she goes **"Give Karliah my regards and tell her I'll be seeing her quite soon." **Nocturnal snaps her fingers and the ginger thief vanishes in a flash of light. **"And I look forward to it. Finally, after so many years, the proper punishment will be dealt..."**

* * *

A/N: Wow. Took me a heck of a lot longer to figure out how to write this.

It is... difficult to keep Mercer from being an asshole at a table when being baited by another man who is also being an asshole. I'm hoping that the common ground they have in regards to Kat not being forthcoming when she's going to do something that is facepalm worthy and having to put her together again afterwards will lead to better feelings between the two men. Enough to share a pint of mead or something at least. I will admit though I am looking forward to the reunion between Mercer and Brynjolf.

Upcoming: Ulfric and Mercer share stories about Katryn, Kat deals with Karliah, and Brynjolf takes an impromptu bath. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Karliah sat with her back up against the stone wall and amethyst eyes shut, the chill from the rock easily passing through the thin material of her shirt. It had been four, maybe five nights, since she had been captured sneaking through the Palace of the Kings up in Windhelm and the thief was rather surprised that, instead of being placed in a normal cell she was put in something that she had never come across before. From what she was able to overhear from the two female guards in the hall, the Dunmer was the first occupant of this small room and that it was designed _and_ tested by the High King's own Stormblade during the Civil War. It seems that there was more than just a little respect for this person, at least from these women. To make matters worse, the Nightingale also heard that Ulfric's right hand had paid a visit to the Hold's Thane, asking for them to pay a visit to the keep... though she was unsure if the request was due to her predicament or for some other reason.

The elf's mind drifts back to when she was first placed in the cell and immediately started checking for the usual ways out. Unfortunately for her, there were two locks on the cell door- from what she could see the keys (or in her case lockpick, as she had only one) had to be turned at the same time to lock or unlock it- and, just like every other cell in Windhelm's prison, there was no way out through the floor. _Seems I am stuck here until a solution presents itself_, Karliah mused to herself that night before she fell asleep on the rather uncomfortable, poorly crafted bed. The only silver lining to this rather embarrassing situation was somehow the guards missed a shiv that was hidden in the frame of said bed. _It's an option. A poor option, but an option nonetheless. _The rather shoddily made weapon was currently in the sleeve of the long sleeved, poorly made tunic, a small comfort in the case one of the Stormcloaks became a bit too rough with their handling. It would only work once, but sometimes only a few precious seconds are all a thief needs.

But the nightmares. Shadows knew they weren't your normal bad dreams- from her first night here, the elf was plagued by poor sleep. Images of a heartbroken Mercer whirled into the face of Gallus with lifeless eyes and disappointment written there to Brynjolf staring at her with complete and utter disdain. A skull with glowing eyes, whispers coming from it's open mouth as a dark bird plucks at it's feathers. Blood coating the Dunmer's hands- was it hers? Someone else's? She didn't know. While Karliah couldn't two horker shits about what her now former and deceased Breton lover thought of her, she'd be lying if she understood what her last relationship and the one she coveted- well, what he had to offer her once he became the Guild Master- for her future were trying to impart.

She doesn't open her eyes when the door down the hall creaks, signaling someone coming into the prison though no steps could be heard. The thief's internal clock tells her that it's near time for when someone shoves whatever slop is being served for breakfast through the door, so Karliah pays them no mind, choosing to try and continue figuring out an escape from this mess she stepped in. _Hopefully I can get out of this frozen nightmare and back in Riften before word even gets to the Guild Master. Who is she to tell us where a thief can and cannot steal from?_

A strange feeling suddenly weighs down on the Dunmer's shoulders, as if someone was staring at her, mentally ordering the thief to open their eyes. Against her better judgment Karliah looks up and finds her gaze meeting the expressionless one of the person she did not want to see. "Guild Master... What are you doing here? I can explain..." Katryn's title left her mouth before she could stop it, though the woman on the other side of the barred door and the soldiers didn't seem to notice- or if the guards did, they didn't say anything. _Why is that?_

The blonde Nord listens to the ramblings of the caged thief, the falsehoods pouring from the clearly distressed- _And was that just a hint of anger I heard?_\- woman. Finally Katryn had enough. "Karliah, when will you learn you can't lie to me?" The comment, somewhat echoing the first words Mercer had said to the newly reformed Nightingale Trinity in Irkngthand, has the desired effect- complete and utter silence from the older thief. "When I became Guild Master- at your and Brynjolf's insistence mind you- I only had one rule for the lot of you morons to follow.. It was a relatively simple one at that: If a member of the Guild took on a bedlam job in Windhelm, or decided to lift a few things from the city for the fun of it, I stressed that they were _**not**_ to go stealing from the Palace of the Kings. This place was and continues to be off limits during my tenure as Guild Master. What part of that did you not understand? Or was it because you believe that due to your many years as a thief- most spent _on the run_, mind you- that you know more than I? Did you seriously think I wouldn't find out what happens in _**my**_ Holds?"

"Your Holds? Sounds presumptuous in the castle of the current High King, Guild Master."

"I'm surprised, Thane. She seems to be rather thick for a thief. Then again, she is a Dark Elf." One of the guards by the cell lets out a snort, muffled slightly by her helmet. To Karliah, the female soldier goes "Outside that cesspool you call a Guild Hall, elf, she is more than your Guild Master. She is the High King's Stormblade. High King Ulfric would not deny Lady Hjlemstad _anything_, so be glad she is here instead of The Stormcloak, for it is she who stilled his hand into killing you straight off." A lie, but the imprisoned thief did not need to know that. If questioned, the three Stormcloaks knew Ulfric would agree with almost anything Katryn said.

"The Flagon is only a cesspool to those who don't see what's truly hidden in her shadows," Karliah watches as her Guild Master lets out a strange laugh and lightly admonishes the unknown woman. "The thief cannot help it that no one attempted in the past to curb her curiosity. I blame my predecessor- he too was a rather nosy thief and that got him killed." For some reason, the Dunmer thought Katryn's eyes flashed from emotionless icy blue to wrath-filled green, but she figured it was a trick of the lighting. _Mercer is dead, his body nothing but food for the slaughterfish that call Lake Yorgrim home. _

**So sure of that are you, Karliah? Much like Mercer when you shot the woman before you, you both assumed the target was dead. But, also like Mercer, you did not make sure that the target was _actually _dead.**

_Are you saying..._ The Dunmer waits for a response from the Daedric Prince that was a constant presence in her mind, but as was Nocturnal's habit these past few days, after making her taunts and dangling of information, nothing was heard.

"She will claim that her lover was betrayed by a man he called brother, but what she doesn't tell anyone is that Karliah here betrayed her original lover first- leaving him for the one he betrayed. And now you're trying to convince Brynjolf that his Guild Master is behaving oddly like her predecessor, that perhaps he should take over in her stead. He might be called many things, but the one thing he is always is loyal to those he loves... Strange concept for a thief, isn't it?"

A strange laugh escapes the blue and gray garbed woman as her gaze narrows slightly, the displeasure more than evident at having to spell things out for the captured thief. "Do you know what else you did? You couldn't clean up your mess, so you convinced the newest member of the Guild to take care of it for you. Do you know what it's like being forced to watch someone you love stab you and thinking you dead? How you can just lay there on the cold stone, the room being flooded with water, but only being able to focus on the tears streaming down their face? To not being to find them because of needing to heal- a healing that takes too long to finish and finding out the one you love kills themselves because you weren't there to stop them?"

Long fingers push against seat of the stool the caged woman is sitting on, Karliah's mind once again whirling with all the information that was said and not said; things that may or may not be true. As the thief rises from the stool and moves towards the barred door, amethyst eyes stare warily at the blonde, watching as the shadows dancing across the Guild Master's face warp the Nord's features but periodically glancing down as pale fingers fidget with a silver band around a finger. "Are you alright, Guild Master? You sound like you're under the influence of rather bad Skooma."

"I've been waiting so long for this... Shame it has to end so soon, I have people waiting for me in the hall." A straw stranded head shakes in veiled amusement as Katryn turns away, giving her back to the Dark Elf. "Tell me, Karliah... Are you still afraid of drowning? I only ask because I vaguely remember you panicking as we sailed to Raven Rock for a few days from the Guild. You practically _begged_ me not to tell Gallus... A promise I kept until the day he died. How did it feel as the Sanctuary slowly filled with water, Karliah? And how does it feel that you could have killed your other two Nightingales, all because you had to have your revenge. _How very human of you._"

Lavender orbs watch as some features of the Nord seem to flicker as she turns around. Her frame seems to stretch and shrink, broaden and lengthen; the numerous long strands of pale hair that Karliah only found on the Guild Master's head thinning, darkening and shortening, then reverting to what it normal only to switch again. It wasn't until the woman starts turning to her right that the elf realizes that she wasn't speaking to who she thought at all, not when a very familiar set of scars on a worn cheek get revealed by torchlight. The body might still be female, but the Dunmer would known those injuries from anywhere- especially since she had given them to the person in question. "It can't be."

"Hello Karliah."

* * *

A/N: So, a thing!

We all know where this is going. I'm horrid at cliff hangers. Heck, I didn't want to end it here, but the next section is currently sitting pretty at 1300 words and not yet done, so I decided to cut it here.

Still don't like Karliah, can't you tell? I feel Nocturnal should have punished her after the return of the Key. Sure the Dark Elf was on the run for over 25 years, doesn't mean you're forgiven for not doing your job.

Upcoming Somewhere: More back story, a rude goodbye, an impromptu bath and making choices.

Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you saying Kat single-handedly _and successfully_ cleared out an entire fort of well trained soldiers and Legionnaires? And despite the fact she was in her words 'moderately injured' she still demanded that those who were held in the cells be treated first?" Dark emeralds narrow at the possible ramifications of such stupidity as Mercer continues with "Dare I hope someone tended to her injuries before she went back to running across Skyrim like a wild woman?"

Galmar responds with a chuckle "I had to pull rank on her- she was just known as Ice-Veins before Ulfric decided that the name some of the men had given her was much more fitting at that point." Worn eyes glance at the head of the table at the man in question, then back at Mercer, "The soldiers had taken to calling her Bone-Breaker, so ferocious and determined was she to get all of the Stormcloaks home to the best of her ability. It was a sight to see to be sure, and I'm still amazed how fluid her motion is- no soldier should be able to move as she does. After we got her properly patched up, I ordered her a week to recuperate at Lakeview Manor before going up to Windhelm to find out our next target." At the Breton's puzzled look, the General elaborates "It's the homestead she managed to weasel out of Siddgeir, the former Jarl of Falkreath. The property is south of Lake Illinanta, northeast of Falkreath."

"That explains why I couldn't find her in the capital after your soldiers won at the fort," the male thief muses as he takes a sip of his mead. "I figured her home be situated as Breezehome was, inside the city- I made the same mistake in Morthal but from what Kat told me, after the fight at Fort Snowhawk she came straight here. I'm lucky I got into Solitude before you started using the siege engines on the place."

"Tell me, how is it that she ended up in the Thieves Guild, let alone as it's Master? It's certainly not the first place I would have expected Katryn to go."

* * *

_He had heard this story from Brynjolf many times in the past, that he had found someone who would fit in with those who had called the Ragged Flagon home. As he had also done many times in the past, Mercer humored the ginger Nord, mainly because it would keep his rather obtuse Second from realizing what the Breton was doing when no one else was watching. The other reason, though he'd never admit it, was that there was something coming- that odd yet slightly comforting feeling coursing just underneath his skin that had started just after Vex came crawling back from Goldenglow._

_The exhausted thief stood in the center of the Cistern, waiting for Brynjolf to bring in this new supposed recruit of his, but he couldn't help allowing his mind to drift. Mercer had, after the Civil War was won by the Stormcloaks at Solitude, tried to find the strange woman whose image would pop up in his mind unbidden. No matter where he looked or inquired about to his contacts, the Nord woman seemingly disappeared. If it wasn't for a few lingering scratches and other marks from their last night together, Mercer would tend to have believed she was something his mind created._

_"Mercer? This is the one I was talking about... our new recruit."_

_The Breton blinks back into awareness, his cold stare landing on the redhead as he barely hides his annoyance at being disturbed. __"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf."_ _ As the older male turns his head to look at the new idiot gracing the Guild, it takes all the strength he can must to keep his jaw from dropping when he sees the tormentor of his dreams standing there in the flesh. Though Katryn's facial expression is blank, Mercer can see the laughter in her eyes- yes, she was as glad to see him as he was regarding her._

_Instead of greeting her as he wanted to- Brynjolf standing there expectantly does wonders for one's restraint- the Guild Master snarks out __"Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... you do what we say, when we say. Do I make myself clear?"_

_A thin ashen blonde brow arches slightly though the light in blueish-gray orbs doesn't fade at his sharp tone. Instead of rising to the bait, the Nord woman simply goes "Yes, Guild Master. I understand __**perfectly**__."_

_He inwardly winces- yes, he was going to pay for that. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but Katryn Hjlemstad will demand their pound of flesh from him eventually. __"Good. Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."_

"_Wait a moment, you're not talking about Goldenglow, are you?" Brynjolf, who had been quiet while watching his long time friend interacting with his newest ___protégée, interrupts the pair in disbelief.___ "Even our little Vex couldn't get in."_

_"You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it." Angry emeralds dart over to the auburn haired male, then they soften slightly as they return to his lover's face though his voice is no less brusque. "Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details."_

"_Mercer. Aren't you forgetting something?"_

"_Hmm?" The man tears his gaze from Kat to Brynjolf then back to the woman and sighs in exasperation. __"Oh, yes. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, then you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild."_

_As Mercer walks back towards his table, he overhears Brynjolf explaining to Kat what Maven expected in regards to Aringoth followed by the younger Nord stating that she would handle getting into the building under the cover of darkness. When his Second tells her to take a bed around the cistern, he hears an apology, followed by Katryn saying that she needed to head home and make sure she had everything necessary for something of this venture- despite being under the cover of darkness, mercenaries still could be deadly adversaries._

_The Breton sees a shadow fall over the ledger he was trying to focus on, and, glancing up slightly spies Katryn standing there. "You just got here and you're already being a nuisance. Don't you have better things to do than disturb me?"__ The minute the words leave the Guild Master's mouth he regrets them, a quick wince flashing across her features then becoming unreadable. "Kat... I'm-"_

"_Apologies Guild Master. I suppose you don't have the time to deal with those lesser than you. I will keep that in mind the next time I wish to know more of the history of this place. Perhaps I could ask Brynjolf- Talos knows he was trying to get to know me better before I was sent to find this place. Or perhaps the bald Breton I saw staring at the leggy blonde out there, I'm sure he knows his way around lots of places. So many choices to keep me occupied in this Guild when I'm not out on a job." The flaxen locked woman growls out quietly, tossing her braid over her shoulder and her once glowing eyes darken in rage. Suddenly the emotions shift again and her shoulders droop just a touch. "I suppose you got what you were looking for during the Civil War then- a way out in case people notice things were missing post-battle. Who would question the vouching of a Hold's Thane?"_

"_That's not-"_

"_Don't worry, Guild Master. I won't let it distract me from what I have to do tonight. I will have the information and the elf back in line the only way I know how."_

"_Maven doesn't want Aringoth dead, Hjlemstad," Mercer grunts out, trying not to show how much this is truly bothering him. Even in the Cistern, the walls have eyes and ears and the current Guild Master was not going to give any information away freely._

"_And he won't be. There are other ways to get similar effects without bloodshed- I'm very good at what I do." Had the woman clearly not been more than a little annoyed at him, Mercer almost would have believed that her last words were a promise of so many possibilities, of shadows and secrets, pain and pleasure. Things that the two willingly shared together- had he destroyed everything out of habit? "Apologies again for taking up your time, Guild Master Frey. It shan't happen again."_

* * *

_Not my finest hour._ "I was surprised to find her in Riften- don't take that as I wasn't glad to see her. I was, still am. But when you wear a mask, adopt habits in a place for so long, one tends to forget it's not always necessary. Eventually things smoothed out between us and all was well. Then... then Kat decided that she... that she had to come with me. She didn't think that I'd return back to Riften if I went on my own. It's true, one of us didn't make it back to the Guild, but it wasn't me that was left behind."

Ulfric's verdant orbs narrow at Mercer's words and it takes everything he has to keep to his chair. "And _why _didn't Stormblade make it home?"

* * *

_Mercer turns after Karliah disappears from view, his face set in almost a permanent scowl as he looks down at the slowly bleeding body of his lover, the shaft of the arrow poking out through her chest armor. "I told you. I __**warned**__ you, Kat," he whispers as he kneels down next to her. Brushing a clump of sweat slicked hair out of the woman's eyes, the man continues "I didn't want you of all people to find out. I didn't want you caught in the middle, didn't want my past with Karliah interfering with my present with you...and the future I hoped to have. But I won't give that blasted elf the satisfaction of taking you from me."_

_Before standing, the Breton removes the black leather glove on his right hand and slowly drags thick, calloused digits down the smooth skin of her face. He leans forward and presses his lips against hers, wiping away the remnants of tears that managed for fall from cloudy eyes. Mercer stays like that, murmuring things that in the long run wouldn't make much of difference to the woman dying on the stone floor, but maybe- he hoped- it would ease his own guilt eventually. Then, as he whispers apologies that are more heartfelt than he'd ever admit and explain emotions he couldn't truly describe, the older thief shoves his blade into the woman's chest._

_Unable to move, Katryn was able to make any sort of noise, but the Guild Master was surprised to not see any hostile emotions swirling in her eyes but something that looked like resignation and disappointment. Maybe a little regret, if he was honest with himself. And as Mercer rose and started to make his way back the way whence the pair came, each step made his heart just a little bit heavier, the guilt press down more on his shoulders. The thief wants to believe that these rather uncomfortable feelings will fade in time- perhaps next week, next month, or even next year- but knows today is not that day._

* * *

"You stabbed her." A silent nod is the ruler's only response, the Breton fully expecting the Stormcloak to unleash that temper he was well known for. Instead, Ulfric just says "How did she survive then?"

"The arrow Karliah shot her with was coated with a paralytic poison she had made- it slowed Kat's heart and kept her from bleeding out entirely. According to my successor, your prisoner had taken a year to make but only had enough for one shot. Had I known that... things would have ended differently in Snow Veil Sanctum and everything that happened thereafter."

Before Mercer could elaborate more or the Nords could ask more questions, chaos ensues in the palace. An otherworldly cry, loud, anguish filled, and gut wrenching, can be heard around them though the source of the sound was not in the room. The noise, however, was powerful enough for items in the hall to vibrate, from dishes bouncing off the tables to the shield over the throne cracking down the middle. The door to the Bloodworks flies open moments later, one of the guards from the cell area stumbling through in a rush.

"General, we need you downstairs," the woman goes, not taking a moment to stop and explain things. The things that could be deciphered as she passes were 'elf', 'Thane', 'wizard', and 'blood'- the second word getting Galmar standing, the fourth causing Mercer to pale.

The Steward also rises from his seat and goes to follow the Housecarl. "I'll never understand how she just knows things. Wuunferth can stabilize her if he can downstairs, but Lady Hjlemstad will be moved to her home afterwards." When his friend goes to overrule Jorleif, the shorter Nord points out "You're more than welcome to argue with Stormblade, Ulfric, about her choices- _after_ I do as she tells me and make sure she gets brought to Hjerim. Remember the last time someone didn't listen to her instructions."

As much as the High King wants to get his way, the honey haired soldier knew how vengeful Katryn could be when her wishes were completely ignored. He sighs wearily, then nods. "We will wait for you here."

"I should be down there with them," the remaining man at the table goes as the sought after court wizard and the soldier go past the pair. "She shouldn't be alone..."

"No. Your going down there would just add more wood to the fire," Ulfric tells Mercer as both men watch the lone door to the barracks with trepidation. "If this... Karliah?"

"Yes."

"If this Karliah, who seems to think you're dead, discovers you are very much alive... Well, I'd rather not have a bloodbath down in the prison area. What concerns me is that the guards and Galmar did a thorough check both before and after the Dunmer was placed in the cell and her only visitor has been Katryn."

A gray flecked eyebrow arches slightly at what the Nord was trying to work out. "Kat wasn't armed when she went down there- trust me, she left Hjerim in exactly what you saw her in. No weapons of any kind, hidden or otherwise. She seems to think she's rather safe here. No, Karliah got the weapon afterwards. Perhaps one of your guards-"

"Tread lightly, thief." A dangerous glint appears in the ruler's eyes. "My Stormblade might have forgiven you for trying to send her to an early death, but that doesn't give you the right to make the assumption one of my men betrayed her. Katryn fought alongside many of them, bled for them, was willing to die for them and they for her. Believe me when I tell you this- there is none in my Hold that would dare betray her."

The Breton goes to snark out a retort, only to have Jorlief enter the room, followed by an unconscious Katryn wrapped in a cloak and being carried by Galmar and somewhat bloodied Wuunferth, trailed by the same soldier who darted through the hall earlier. The former Guild Master moves over to the General and brushes a sweat slick clump of hair off his lover's face. "How is she?"

"As stable as I could get her in the dungeons," the court wizard goes quietly, "But not as well as I'd like with what I had and being told she had to be moved."

"It was the Thane's orders, Wuunferth. You know how she gets."

"It is fortuitous though that I know that which I need Quintus Navale has in his shop. Talos knows he owes the girl a few favors, so I'm sure he'll be more than willing to provide."

Weary green eyes meet Galmar's concerned icy blue. "Can I..." Mercer starts to say, then, unable to finish, just holds his arms out. The General says nothing but sets his unmoving bundle into the other man's hold as if Katryn was the most fragile thing in Skyrim. A strange smile crosses the thief's face, one that doesn't reach his eyes. "Thank you."

"For some reason Stormblade trusts you after all you've done. That's enough for me. But know this _**thief**_, if I get even the slightest thought that you're even contemplating hurting a hair on that woman's head, it won't be the Brotherhood or your former Guildmates that you will have to worry about. Do we have an understanding, Breton?"

"We do, but know that if that ever happened, you wouldn't know about it until it was too late," the thief goes, looking down at the woman in his arms. "It's only because of someone that watches over her that I'm still alive at this point, that I was given a second chance. It's rare for thieves to be granted such a gift, and I was given two."

The last words are barely audible, and Jorleif believed that Mercer truly forgot everyone existed for a moment. Coughing to get the introspective man's attention, the Steward goes "Perhaps we should get moving so that Wuunferth can continue treating the Lady's injuries?"

At Mercer's nod, the group makes their way from the Palace and through the Valunstrad, paying no heed to the stares from passersby. The soldier, who had been following them without a word, moves beside the thief and goes quietly "Do not worry, she will survive and the elf will be properly punished."

"That I doubt. If anyone could escape punishment, it would be Karliah."

"The fly can only outmaneuver the spider for so long, Mercer Frey. However, the spider can be patient, make what she is hunting believe they are after something else and wait for its' prey to make a mistake- eventually the error is made, it is a grave one and the fly gets caught. It will struggle, only for the trap to tighten around it and then it will be too late." The woman looks at him through the holes of her helm and laughs softly as the thief pulls Kat's form just a bit closer to his chest. "The High King will decide, quite rightly, that since the Dunmer attempted to take Katryn Hjlemstad's life- regardless of her state of mind at the time- it would be only fitting that she carry out the sentence given to the elf. When she tries to figure out how to do so, remind her of what she keeps in the altar room."

"What altar room? And what exactly does she keep in there?" He asks the soldier as they stand before the entrance to Hjerim, the others already having gone inside. When she says nothing, the man scoffs and growls out "Fine. Keep your secrets. When- _IF_\- Kat wakes, I'll be sure to ask her about it."

"Just remember the weapon in altar room, Mercer Frey."

The man gives the soldier an odd look, as if studying a puzzle he was trying to solve, then brings the Katryn's body into the home. Moments later, another soldier appears- the second guard from the prison.

"Do you think any of them suspect-"

"It is possible Mercer Frey might, though with his mind worrying about the woman, any concerns will be ignored until long after we leave this place. We are lucky she fell for them and not that other male Breton thief she speaks to often- the one whose brother lives in Raven Rock."

"Delvin Mallory, the one touched by Hermaeus Mora to have a small gift of foresight. Yes... that would have been rather problematic. When will the last player arrive?"

"Soon. And then the game will truly begin."

* * *

A/N: And here's another one. I could have waited until morning to put this up, but my mind was rather insistent on getting this posted. But like every other chapter I write... it could have been better.

So, was a little bit of back story. I know chances are Ulfric probably would have swung first and asked questions later, but I'd like to think the Bear of Markarth, now that he is a bit older, got a little bit wiser especially after the war. Though sometimes he needs a little bit of a reminder, which is why Jorleif just tells him to remember the last time a poor sap didn't listen to what the Thane of Eastmarch said.

No, I haven't forgotten about Bryn. That's next chapter. Promise.

I look at Mercer and his hesitancy and his fear and I'm like dawww, so smol and adorable... Then I remember that he is very capable of killing someone that looks at him wrong and I think 'Never mind.'

Now, to bed I go. Thanks for reading!


End file.
